


Dish-course

by Floris_Oren



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fandom Dish-Course, Gold is an excuse for Viktor to date Yuuri, He couldn't very well go back to Russia with his tail between his legs, I COULDN'T HELP IT, Life Lessons, M/M, Sixteen year old Viktor, Some skating, Viktor cutting his hair, What was supposed to be funny turned serious, Yuuri has Anxiety and Depression, and Viktor knows how to treat him right, he knows what chores are, he needed a reason to stay in Hasetsu, more domestic, not a lot, of the camp that Viktor actually keeps a nice house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 01:41:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10294553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Floris_Oren/pseuds/Floris_Oren
Summary: When Yuuri lets his anxiety get the best of him Viktor has a good way of settling it. Yuuri learns more about his coach/fiance and he is never disappointed.





	1. Anxiety and Silver

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be funny. It was supposed to be Yuuri gently teasing Viktor about how he knows what chores are. It turned into this thing about the silver medal instead. because I see stuff and I have ideas. Basically. I am okay with the finale. And I think that Yuuri never really had an intent to win gold. He'd already won Viktor's heart. Their "gold" is really code for something else. Bugger if I know what it is though. honestly. So that's why it's great that Yurio won gold, because Yuuri won Viktor. Okay, he always had Viktor but he had to prove to himself that he could do it.  
> Enough rambling, please enjoy the story.

 

Moving to Russia; honestly, was the easiest decision Yuuri had ever made in his life. Detroit had taken a year to decide on, skating had taken five minutes of his mother’s time, and he just continued it. Grew a love for it even. And eventually that led to here. To waking up in Viktor’s apartment, in Viktor’s bed. In Viktor’s room. That connected to a living/dining/kitchen area because open concept is a thing. 

 

In Viktor’s home town, in his home country, in his rink. Listen. Things just had that way about them right now. All of it was Viktor’s and he was sharing it with Yuuri in the same way he shared Hasetsu. Maybe in a very Russian manner. Yuuri liked it though. It was different but the same and he wasn’t at all homesick. Some how, Viktor had become part of home. 

 

The funny thing though, is that before Yuuri could boast how he knew all types of stuff about Viktor. There were ice Conventions who had competitions about who knew more about him and so on and so forth and maybe Yuuri had won some tickets to see an exhibition just by answering questions on the radio. In fact, his first year in Detroit he had won two tickets to a very expensive gala Viktor was going to skate at and he’d gotten the radio dj’s questions right. And when asked if he was looking this up on the internet, Yuuri replied that all he knew were in Russian magazines that hadn’t been translated. And when asked how he knew that, he said he knew Russian and doesn’t everyone????

 

No.

 

He found out after Phichit laughed himself sick. No. Not everyone knows Russian. 

So. Russia is great. He’s able to get by even if he can’t write the language. 

 

Those types of lessons don’t stop in Russia either. Of course everyone grows and evolves and changes their likes over time. Viktor still dislikes green vegetables. So Yuuri has to sneak them into his fiance/coach by adding blueberries and basically hiding anything green within the food because Viktor had a hard time as a child for some reason. He finds out that Viktor isn’t nearly as hard with Yuuri when it comes to exercise but himself even more. 

 

Sometimes Yuuri has to pull him away from the work out room at the rink; convince Viktor that no, he is indeed not fat after a year off. In fact that year did him good and that’s really what counts. His love for the Ice will come out easier now. Yuuri tells the truth of course. 

 

And the other thing he finds out about Viktor is…..

 

Fandom is wrong. 

 

He does know how to do dishes. 

 

Right now; Yuuri has just arrived from one of his stress practices. Worlds is coming up. Helsinki is a month away and both he and Viktor will be competing. He’s been trying to refine Eros and Yuuri on Ice. Viktor is using his previous programs. Only because there hadn’t been time to make up new ones. Though he’s got a few in the works for the next five seasons, and some are even for Yuuri. 

 

“Hey, slow poke, dinner’s on.” Viktor grinned from where he was cleaning a frying pan. On the table stand two bowls of Katsudon. Yuuri smiled. “I haven’t won anything.” 

 

“You got silver at the Grand prix,” Viktor replied. “How is that not winning?” 

 

“It wasn’t gold.” Yuuri sighed. Anxiety and Stress making him not take into account his words. Because Viktor is frowning at him, and then he’s being hugged by the biggest octopus the Russian Nation had ever produced. Viktor held him tight. 

 

“It was an excuse to be with you.” Viktor said. Warm breath ghosting against Yuuri’s neck. “I wanted to coach you, I thought we had a thing after the banquet but imagine my surprise to find out you’re are shy and my pride as you’ve grown in confidence since the Hot Springs on Ice competition.” Viktor pulled away, a gentle, heart shaped smile on his face. Yuuri had no idea how the older man did it but it got his heart beating every time. 

 

“Don’t think less of yourself, or us because you won silver.” Viktor said. “You have come so far in such a short time, and that means something special to me.” he tapped the tip of Yuuri’s nose. “Okay?” 

 

“Okay.” Yuuri nodded, shyly, a blush coming up his features. Viktor never ceased to surprise him. “But one thing….” Yuuri cleared his throat. 

 

“Yes?” Viktor turned back to the dishes. 

 

“I thought you didn’t know what a sink was.” Yuuri joked. 

 

Viktor bent over and clutched at his chest; “I know what washing dishes mean!!!!” 

 

Their impromptu serious discussion is exchanged for light ribbing. 16 year old Viktor who hardly had time to keep up with his partment had grown int 27/28 year old Viktor who always made time for cleaning his place. As a way to be more strict about his skating. Which had gotten sloppy and possibly, almost, cost him a gold. It was by divine grace the other competitor had cheated and Viktor had gotten it even if his routine had been sloppy. 

 

Not that Yuuri knew this. He’d done the same routine, the same way, thinking Viktor had planned it out like that; and Viktor is not about to disabuse Yuuri of his notions of how great a skater Viktor is. Even if he has to bribe everyone at the rink. Because - he muses as he pushes Yuuri towards the table, intent on feeding the Katsudon to his Katsuki by hand - his fans may not believe he knows how to do the dishes, but that’s unimportant when compared to the smiling man sitting down at his table. In his kitchen, connected to the living room, which leads to a bedroom, with a bed, that holds Yuuri at night, safely for Viktor. 

  
His cleaning skills be damned, if a little bit of Dish-course is all it takes to get Yuuri giggling and smiling again, forgetting his stress and anxiety after a long day of practice. Viktor is proud of the home he keeps, and much more proud of the man who comes back to it every day. 


	2. Viktor and the Pheonix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 16 year old Viktor knew defeat, but hadn’t thought of it in a long time. He’d gotten too full of himself, he had forgotten how it felt to be defeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to write a second chapter to this so quickly, but the throw away idea that Viktor started to be weird about how he kept up his apartment in the previous story led me to this. And it wrote itself and how can I deny a story that wrote itself?????? that's right I can't. 
> 
> Also, I've been wanting to write sixteen year old Vitya. And how he came about to cut his hair. In some culture the cutting of hair is seen as that person starting on a new path in life. Not merely a hair style. And I've always felt that was a neat idea. So I used it here.

It didn’t happen often. 

 

Defeat. That is. 

 

Viktor Nikiforov knew what getting beat at a sport felt like, and ever since he was ten he had promised himself to never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever….EVER lose again. It was before Yakov, at a small time ice rink competition for fun. Of course there were “medals” and of course everyone made out as if it were the Grand Prix series. After qualifying many times - and winning a few gold - Viktor knew it wasn’t at all like the Grand Prix but the idea to little kids was nice. And the adults just wanted them to have a fun time. Even if they couldn’t do any toe loops. 

 

Which Viktor remembered being disappointed about. 

 

But, that was in the past. Before his mother got sick and the car wreck his Father died in. After that, Skating was his escape and he became good at it; then Yakov had found him and now here he is. Six years later, hand buried in a sink full of white suds. The water an icky grey with a tinge of red from the past months dishes. He pulls the plug and frowns as the water slowly drains. Then he rinses out the sink to fill it again with new water. And while the soap begins to bubble up, and the water steams he grabs the dish towel. Frowns. It gets thrown in the pile of laundry at his side; he hates losing. 

 

A new dish cloth is procured and soon another pile of dishes is sparkling clean and put away. It’s the second day of Viktor’s self imposed exile from the Rink. He really should have listened to Yakov. He’d been told to stop doing interviews and to practice. Maybe if he had done that, his routine wouldn’t have been so sloppy. Maybe he wouldn’t have lost to Constantine. That ass. He hadn’t won as many Grand Prix as Viktor, and had only one World to his name while Viktor had yet to compete. But this year Viktor is intent on making it up to Yakov, to refine the program and win at Worlds. 

 

He piles more dirty dishes into the sink, starts to scrub at the dried food. The clear smell of pineapple wafts up at him. There is a lot of work ahead of him. And a lot of thoughts about where his skating career needed to go. Where he should go. All he knew was that he was missing something else. And that, through skating, he’d find it. 

 

One day. 

 

He hoped. 

 

~*~

 

Later, he sits on his bed with piles of folded laundry around him. The dresser drawers open and each aspect of clothing had its own home. It’d be easier to go to practice in the morning if he knew where all of his shirts and pants were. This eventually turned to changing the sheets and washing the blankets. The closet needed a bit of work too. 

 

Viktor had his go to dry-cleaners come by for all the suits. Which would take a week. Viktor didn’t have any plans for doing anything that needed a suite. Soon enough the floors were vacuumed or swept. The bathroom sparkled along with the kitchen and in just three short days the apartment looked better than it had when he had moved in. 

 

He sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh. Makkachin laid her head on his lap; long wisps of silver hair escaped the braided bun he’d had in for the last three days. Simple re-pinning it with bobby pins. He frowns, reaches up to take it down. He wiggles his toes on the nice clean floor while he made his decision. 

 

~*~

 

Two hours of youtube video’s later Viktor stands in front of the mirror. The first cut made, more than ten inches of hair lie in a plastic bag he plans to send off to a wig making company for Cancer patients. The rest get cut into the sink. He hums as he makes short snips. Not wanting to take off too much. He still needs to go back into public. 

 

Eventually the back is straight, though he’ll go to an actual hairdresser before practice the next day - and the front does a small curl that kind of hangs about his eyes. It’s a dashing image if he allows himself the small ego to say so. 

 

He cleans up this mess, takes a shower, changed into street clothing so he can send off the package of his hair. He uses a non de plume because he doesn’t need this getting out. Helping others means doing so without getting praise for it. He smiles brightly as he walks through the park. Makkachin at his side. 

 

He still feels as if he is missing something; and maybe he’d been defeated for a time. But, the best heroes always got reborn. Viktor claps gloved hands as the theme for his next season comes together. Now, it’s time to find the right music. And maybe he’ll show up at Yakov’s ice rink transformed because eventually everyone has to grow up. 

 

~*~

 

Viktor’s dark waltz is playing over the speakers when Yakov gets the phone call from the judges of the Saint Petersburg Competition. He didn’t like to answer his cell when Viktor was skating. Because he needed to tell Viktor when his toe loop was pathetic or his Quad needed an extra rotation. However, he took it. 

 

Five minutes later he is calling for Viktor. “Vit’ya…..” and the skater is gliding towards him. 

 

“That was the judges from the competition you apparently didn’t lose last week” he did not look happy, but Viktor hardly ever saw him pleased with anyone if they didn’t win at least a silver. 

 

“Oh?” Viktor asked. 

 

“It turns out that Constantine has been taking drugs before a competition…” Yakov snorts in derision. He didn’t support his athletes taking any type of drug that wasn’t over the counter. Or approved by a doctor. “He’s being investigated but he’s also been disqualified from the competition and he may be dispensed of by the Russian National Skate Organization.” 

 

Viktor waits. Because he knows he didn’t really earn it. Someone cheating didn’t mean that he hadn’t been sloppy. He was just getting the gold because he was the next runner up. But there would be scrutiny from the media as well. He’d have to let people look through his locker, his bags, his home…..he’d be followed to all of his favorite places….

 

“No.” Viktor pushes away from the wall. “I lost due to my own arrogance.” 

 

Yakov’s chin hit the floor. “What!?” 

 

“That other skater, Petrov…..he should get it. His program was put together and he did a great job skating.” Viktor smiled. Then he glides off and the music re-starts. 

 

Yakov sighs, children took such a long time to learn those lessons. Maybe this was the beginning of something else, other than image. Maybe cutting his hair meant a great deal more than the media and others were saying it did. 

 


End file.
